Yesterday I went to the funeral of Malcom Hinckley, a man who served as an elder at Memorial Road for more than 30 years. There was a lot about Malcom I did not know (like how he and his wife spent seven weeks in the Middle East to see and study the places of the Bible), but there was a lot I did know. I knew Malcom's kindness and his love for God. I knew this, but I only had (maybe) three conversations with him in the almost 10 years I've been attending Memorial Road.

The Sunday before I started OC as a freshman, I attended Memorial Road's Sunday night service. That was the first time I spoke with Malcom. He told me his name and he asked for my name. When I told him, he seemed to daze off in thought for a moment and then he asked me, "Are you related to Tim Rusher?" That was my grandfather. To this day I don't know how he could have crossed paths with my grandfather, who does not remember meeting Malcom, but it was neat at the time. It's still neat now. Malcom was the first person I met at Memorial Road almost ten years ago. I'm not sure how or why I remember that, but I do...and I'm glad I do.